


Queens of the Westerlands

by Terra_Banks



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: BAMF Women, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexuality, Blood Drinking, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Explicit Consent, F/F, Femslash, Girl Power, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Mansel - Freeform, Negotiations, Peacekeepers, Royalty, Slow Burn, Touching, Women Being Awesome, Women In Power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26255593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terra_Banks/pseuds/Terra_Banks
Summary: As Ansel and Manon work towards peace in the region, the two Queens discover they have more in common than they thought. Behind their masks and scars, the two women have deep wounds that need healing. Can they fix those together as well?
Relationships: Manon Blackbeak/Ansel of Briarcliff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 11





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in the summer after the third Valg War.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tired of listening to men babble, Ansel and Manon decide that negotiations would go better with just the two of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have never written a femslash fic before. Since there are no other ManonxAnsel stories on this site as of now, I hereby dub this ship 'Mansel' and send it on its maiden voyage. Long may you sail the Western sea!

_We live in cities you'll never see on screen_   
_Not very pretty, but we sure know how to run things_   
_Living in ruins of a palace within my dreams_   
_And you know, we're on each other's team_

**\- Team by Lorde**

* * *

Young. She was as young as Dorian, the red-haired Queen that sat at the other end of the long wooden table. Yet she had managed to win these lands back from the man who had conquered them and slaughtered her family. Not with magic or claims of birth right but through skill and steel. Manon could respect that even if she found the woman's usual swagger grating.

It was missing now however and that irritated her even more for some reason. Some men sat the table and they were prattling on about something. Manon could tell from Ansel's stiffness and the way her body angled away from them that she did not want them there. They reminded Manon of Vernon simply by association of title.

The two warrior queens were not friends and did not allow others to become close to them easily. Aelin was the only female that Ansel could claim such kinship with. Manon was still reeling from the loss of her coven even if she continued to function on the outside. Once they had greatly desired each other's death. Things had changed when they fought side by side in Orynth and shared losses on the battlefield. They had learned how to be on the same team. However, it remained to be seen if that truce would hold out now that the shared threat of Valg was vanquished.

"Leave us. Ansel and I will speak alone." Manon declared with a flourish of her hand, casually releasing her iron nails. A little fear always made these meetings move along faster.

The guards in the room moved their hands to their swords in response as if it would do them any good against her. She could kill them before they could finish drawing their weapons. Humans did not stand much of a chance against witches, let alone the deadliest witch of all.

Ansel was unperturbed by the display as she knew if Manon wanted the rest of them dead, she would have done it already. She grinned wickedly as she caught onto her actual intentions. "Yes, I think that's a wonderful idea Manon."

One of the Lords protested to Ansel. "Your Majesty, with all due respect, the purpose of this summit is to establish terms between our kingdoms. Surely you want your Lords to consult on such an important matter. "

Manon raised an eyebrow at him. "As you have stated my Lord, we are the reigning Queens. Surely you don't mean to imply that we are incapable for deciding what is best for our people."

The Lord paled and began to sweat. "No, of course not Your Majesty. I only mean to offer our services to you both."

"We thank you for your generosity Lord Baelor and we will be sure to keep it in mind should the need for your counsel arise." Ansel answered in both reassurance and dismissal.

Once the Lords had left the rooms, the human guards and witch sentinels followed suit to wait outside the doors.

"Thanks." Ansel said, kicking her feet up on the table. "They mean well but they still have sticks up their asses and think they know more just because they're older. Who are they to lecture me about our losses from the war? They didn't fight in it!"

Manon laughed. "Perhaps we should start calling our lands Queendoms instead. Maybe then they will get the message."

Ansel's eyes gleamed with mirth at the jest, even as her brow slowly furrowed with consideration. "You're right."

Manon blinked in surprise and tilted her head, inviting an elaboration of Ansel's musings.

"We should rename our lands. I have no desire to share the title of 'Queen of the Wastes' any more than you do. Frankly, I have always found the term 'wastes' to be inaccurate. These are fertile, beautiful lands. While the rest of the continent may consider them as unwanted leftovers, they are everything to our people who have fought hard for them."

Manon did not know what surprised her more, that Ansel possessed such wisdom or that she valued the beauty of land beyond simply occupying it as most humans did. "Yes, I agree. I am the Queen of Witches and I do not need any more titles."

"This area was called the Flatlands once, back when it was part of the Witch Kingdom. I would like to bring back that name in the hopes that it will signal a return to the peace of those times."

Manon gave Ansel a nod of approval. "I think we should delegate finding a new name for the Wastes to the Lords. They will not object to our proposal if they feel like their own input was valued. As much as I like to strong arm men, I have learned that some of them can be useful allies to have."

Ansel smirked, knowing that the witch spoke of a certain King in particular. She called for a page to invite the gathered nobles back into the room.

There were still many issues to resolve but this was a step in the right direction. If both of them were willing to compromise, they could find a way to make it work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I could pair Manon with any ToG character. A beautiful and deadly temptress with emotional depth, Manon will always be my One True Queen.


	2. Strictly Business

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Manon and Ansel have dinner with a peculiar dessert course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never written anything like this before which usually unnerves me but for some reason I enjoyed it this time. Hope you do as well!

_Something must've gone wrong in my brain_   
_Got your chemical all in my veins_   
_Feeling all the highs, feeling all the pain_

_Let go on the wheel, it's the bullet lane_   
_Now I'm seeing red, not thinking straight_   
_Blurring all the lines, you intoxicate me_

**\- Never Be The Same by Camila Cabello**

* * *

After a day of tiring talks, Manon and Ansel sat down to dinner. According to protocol, they should have dined with the Courtiers in the Great Hall of Briarcliff but neither of them had the patience to continue playing the formal roles of hostess and guest. Instead they ate at a table inside Ansel's master suite, having stationed their respective guards to the base of the tower in which the rooms were located.

Manon was curious to see fresh meat on the table. Noticing her expression, Ansel said. "I noticed you prefer it raw."

Manon smiled slightly. "Witches eat meat both raw and cooked. We prefer it fresh and unseasoned. The natural salt is quite tasty."

Ansel laughed. "Your taste buds must be wired different."

They both ate in silence. Ansel had very little table manners so Manon did not bother either as she dug into her food.

After a while, the red-haired woman broached a more serious topic. "Speaking of your diet, should I be concerned about my people becoming livestock?"

Manon knew they needed to have this talk. She had been hoping to do it later, after they already had some terms ironed out. Momentum and pre-existing rapport were vital to dealing with the jurisdictional difficulties of crime and punishment. With in that mind, Manon decided to shift focus to the non-lethal aspect of the issue.

"Blood is an indulgence as these drinks are to you." She began, picking up her own glass of wine and taking a slow sip. "A luxury rather than a necessity. However the Ironteeth are born with a thirst for it. Decades of discipline and training allow some of us to push past it during battles and sieges. Outside of that, it is a form of release for us. One which most of us avail ourselves of quite frequently if the circumstances permit."

"Are you telling me to expect witch attacks? I can't allow my people to be treated like blood bags." Ansel immediately went on the defensive as Manon had anticipated.

"Bleeding need not result in death. It is usually done after or during bedding." Manon explained.

"Oh so they'll just rape and use them instead of killing them? How generous." Ansel retorted, flipping her hair over her shoulders and crossing her arms.

Manon's own temper flared and she bit down on the urge to return the verbal lashing. "I assure you that these encounters between humans and witches can be consensual if there is no intent of violence. Of course there are exceptions to this but a witch doesn't really have to try very hard to find a willing bedmate. Our beauty is alluring and the experience is quite pleasurable."

Ansel's cheeks grew red. "How would we ensure that these occurrences are indeed consensual?"

"You mean you do not currently require that every coupling in your kingdom be reported to you for your stamp of approval?" Manon asked with a straight face.

"Of course not. That's none of my bus-" Ansel cut herself off. "This is different. Humans are vulnerable to witches."

"As I stated, witches have no motive to force the rare human who is disinterested. It is insecure and corrupt males who take advantage of those who are weaker in this way." Ansel's gaze became unfocused as she was pulled into a memory and Manon hands fisted on their own at the implication.

Ansel shook her head to bring herself back to the present. "I still think it would be safer to simply outlaw blood sharing Manon."

"Ansel, we cannot possible enforce such a rule." Manon reasoned. "A prohibition would simply drive the behavior further into the shadows where actual abuse and murder would go undiscovered. Also, the notion that you and I have any say in what people willingly choose to do in private is ridiculous."

"Are you saying we should do nothing?" Ansel demanded.

"Since the Ironteeth witches are all sentinels, I can make them continue training exercises even if it is peacetime." Manon offered. "This will help with self control." 

Ansel looked unconvinced. Manon recalled what Dorian had told her about Aelin's ploy to recruit Rolfe. Sometimes all the declarations in the world wouldn't work on a non-believer and demonstrations were necessary to change their minds.

"Very well. Judge for yourself." Manon proposed.

"What?" Ansel looked flushed once more. Those freckles really were a sight to behold.

"Not the bedding part, just the bleeding. If you don't see how anyone could want it, then we can attempt the ban, even if it ends up being futile."

Not one to back down from a challenge, Ansel marched over to the bed and sat at the foot of it.

Manon walked over slowly at an steady pace, akin to a predator trying not startle its quarry lest it flee. When she reached the red-head, she found Ansel had gone as still as a granite statue.

"You're too stiff. Relax." Manon pushed her back gently, indicating that she should lie down.

Ansel did so and tried to loosen herself up to no avail. "Have you done this with Dorian?"

Manon straddled the woman without touching her, placing her knees on either side of Ansel's hips. She decided the other woman needed some distraction so she leaned over her, allowing her silver-white hair to form a curtain around their faces, and purred. "I don't bite and tell."

Keeping their gazes locked, Manon lowered herself until their lips were only an inch apart. "The taste of a person can vary based on their emotions and where I sink my teeth."

Moving her mouth to an ear, she whispered as if she spoke of a secret. "We usually bed them first because the pleasure make the blood taste sweet as wine. Fear resembles a strong liquor. Mixing the two can create wonderful concoctions."

Then she moved down to her collarbone and let her lips brush up against it. "I'm going to release the teeth now, okay?"

Ansel nodded vaguely, her breath hitching slightly and her eyes squeezed shut.

Manon let her iron teeth slide out and traced the column of her throat with her nose. "Do you still want to do this?"

"Yes, I'm not afraid." Manon could smell the lie and taste it on her Ansel's skin so she continued to coax in her bedroom voice.

"That's good. Because you have nothing to fear. I have a century's worth of practice and mean you no harm. Here." Manon slipped her right hand into Ansel's left and raised them in above their heads. She supported herself with her other arm. "Squeeze twice if you want me to stop."

Testing the waters, Manon made a shallow cut on her chest and licked at the drops that emerged. "How does that feel?"

"Stings a little but it feels good too." Her eyes remained shut but Manon could see the muscles beneath her loosen slightly.

"You taste exquisite." That part wasn't a lie, even if she was only admitting it to encourage Ansel to accept the sensations rather than guard against their effects.

Manon let Ansel get used to the feel of the iron on her skin and waited until the woman stopped holding her breath. Then she guided Ansel's free hand to the back of her head. "Show me where you want me."

Manon licked and teased and sliced the skin along the path she was directed to. Ansel began to let out small noises and clenched Manon's hair in her fist but made sure to keep other hand loose.

"There's more if you're ready." Manon prodded, lifting her head slightly to gauge her reaction. "How much further do you want to go?"

Ansel finally opened her eyes and took in the white haired witch above her. There was an openness to Ansel that she had not seen before. Whatever she saw must have been reassuring because Ansel did not waiver in her command. "Give me everything Manon."

The tone sent a thrill through her and Manon lowered her head to a pulse point in her neck. She pressed against it with her tongue to get a feel for it and warm up the spot before slowly sink her iron nails into the flesh. The blood that gushed from the vein was fresh and warm. Manon groaned, it had been too long since she had last fed. Her nights with the princeling had centered around other forms of release.

Ansel had cried out loud and tightened the fist in Manon's hair painfully but still had not squeezed her other hand. Her lower half had also jerked upwards to collide with the witch's and both of them could feel the heat building down there.

Realizing she needed to wrap this up before one of them forgot that this was a diplomatic exercise and took them past the point of no return, Manon retracted her irons and began to cool them down. She alternated between kissing the bruised skin and nuzzling the general area while making sure to keep sweeping her tongue over the puncture wound occasionally. Ansel's hips lowered themselves and her fingers unclenched, disentangling themselves from her silken locks. The witch shifted to lay sideways beside her on the bed with one hand propping up her head.

"So what is the verdict, Queen of the Flatlands?" Manon asked as she twirled a soft lock of russet hair lazily.

"I have questions first." Ansel said taking a breathe before rolling to mirror Manon's pose. "Is it always like that?"

"You'll have to be more specific." Manon deadpanned.

Apparently it took very little to tease the brash woman in her current state of recovery. "How much of that was representative of the average experience and how much was particular to this instance?"

"Well I am not one to brag but I am very skilled with my mouth." Manon drawled, stretching out on the bed. "It's much easier when you're fully intimate though. You can go harder and faster because there is other pleasure to balance out the pain. Things can vary between person to person and night to night like they can with bedding."

"What did I taste like?" Ansel dared to ask, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Manon considered, giving the woman a once-over, before answering. "Rich, red wine laced with honey and cinnamon."

"Okay." Ansel relented. "I can see why people would want this."

"Then I suppose my work here is done for the night." Manon said, rising and fixing her hair in the vanity. Her sentinels would surely smell their activities but there was no need for anyone else in the palace to be aware. Even if this experiment was official business, Manon knew that the truth would not stop the gossips from wild speculation regarding the matter. "I suggest you wear a scarf tomorrow. Goodnight Ansel."

The bed felt colder without Manon in it. Whenever the witch walked into the room, the air went out of Ansel. She had to fight to appear unaffected by the singular focus in her golden eyes and the rippling power in her beautiful body.

A part of her was glad that the witch had drawn the line between them and kept things as professional as possible. Beyond the physical pleasure and pain of their activities, Ansel had felt a powerful connection she didn't fully understand.

Despite her traumatic childhood brushes with the Ironteeth, she had felt completely safe with Manon's teeth in her neck. It had not felt like she was being used, a feeling she was well acquainted with thanks to Lord Berick. It was more like they were both partaking in something that was bigger than either of them, a circle of life and death.

Ansel crawled under the covers and tried to fall asleep. It did not take long thanks to the exhaustion of the day and the catharsis that had followed the intense contact. However even her dreams revolved around the Queen of Witches.

When she woke the next morning, Ansel wondered if this was a spell or a side effect. She would not allow herself to ponder other possibilities. There could be nothing more with Manon for a million reasons. Surely this feeling would fade with time, she just had to tough it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I purposely set this chapter early in the story because it sorta parallels Rowan biting Aelin back when they were still at odds. It ends up pulling them closer later on even if the act is performed with ulterior motives now.


End file.
